


Observations

by BalloonArcade



Series: Hypothesis [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Autobot Ensemble - Freeform, Humor, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2018-10-09 11:31:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10411191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BalloonArcade/pseuds/BalloonArcade
Summary: Collection of one-shots taking place in the background of the main storyline of 'Hypothesis'.Mostly Sideswipe and Sunstreaker's shenanigans among the Autobots as they misinterpret things or deliberately redirect, and others around them are left scratching their heads.





	1. Random, yet Precise

**Author's Note:**

> Reader Alert: The following stories MAY contain spoilers for 'Hypothesis,' if you are not caught up to the most recent chapters.
> 
> Each chapter will list where in the main storyline it occurs. Not crucial to read these for the main story, just sharing what I know is going on in the background with other minor characters.
> 
> I'm trying not to bog down the main plot, but there's a lot of fun to be had in the background that's only being made reference to in passing in the main story. 
> 
> Tags are subject to change, and it's best to note the tags of the main storyline. This is currently rated for potential future chapters.
> 
> First one shot occurs during a scene at the end of **Chapter 20: The Autobot Code**.

Red Alert cycled through his monitors in a randomly generated order of the cameras placed all around the Autobot headquarters in Iacon, and some in the outskirts as well. 

Devoting more than half of his cortex toward generating random outcomes for his decisions, Red Alert generated a number for almost everything he did. From fueling times, to recharge times, Red Alert ensured no Decepticon spy or traitor could figure out his routine and take advantage of it. 

Because he didn’t have one.

Random, yet precise. 

That was how Red Alert lived cycle to cycle, and he didn’t forget suspicious actions of the past. 

Ever. 

He still tracked Jazz on his monitors throughout headquarters when he could. And Mirage, definitely. 

Red Alert had been using his illegal cortex mods to avoid recharge since Optimus foolishly let ex-gladiator Decepticon spies into their headquarters. Tracking their every step through the cameras he watched, while simultaneously he pressed his randomly generated button order to cycle through and observe the rest of the base on his wall of monitors in front of him. He’d seen them dash out of the Medbay, dodge Ratchet’s attempts to track them throughout the base with half detailed plating, and the red one kept going into supply closets when he was suppose to be in the Medbay. 

Ratchet would not permit cameras or microphones in his Medbay, nor would Rung in his office and waiting room. 

Blind spots. A phantom shudder ran through the circuits of his cortex. Red Alert _hated_ blind spots.

The barracks were blinds spots. Personal quarters were blinds spots. Offices were blind spots. Washracks were blind spots.

 _Supply closets_ were blind spots.

Privacy. Optimus’ insistence on _privacy_ made Red Alert’s optics twitch and his digits ache.

Red Alert had gone personally to inspect each one of those supply closets the Decepticon spies entered, searching for listening devices, cameras, or weapons of mass destruction, but so far, the two spies were _good_ at hiding their nefarious plots against the Autobots. 

Optimus had banned Red Alert from approaching them, stating he wished them to get settled and learn to trust the Autobots in their own time through experience. Objecting of course got him no where, at times he swore no one took him seriously despite how many spies he routed out. 

Those infernal cassettes of Soundwave sent his circuits popping and his plating twitching. He didn’t know what was worse, that they helped him find _holes_ in his security network, or the fact there were holes to begin with.

He couldn’t approach the _obvious_ duo of Decepticon spies, but he watched them. Oh yes, Red Alert watched the so called _new recruits_. Every twitch of their plating, every snarl, every smile. 

The Autobots had invited trouble into their base, he just _knew_ it, and it itched at him in his cortex - a buzzing that just wouldn’t stop.

He watched as Bluestreak gave them a tour, and the red one eagerly introduced himself to those around him. A little _too_ eagerly in Red Alert’s opinion. 

He watched as the yellow darted through an obstacle course, showing off for a crowd then sneering with pompous arrogance at their applause. Like he had been laughing at them, mocking them in his cortex for being so naive as to let him into their midst. 

He watched in the mess hall as the red one, clapped his servos onto backs, nudged with elbow joints, and leapt onto a table for an eager audience as he regaled them with tales. A little _too_ loud.

He watched as the red one kept Bluestreak from interacting with the suspicious singular focus the yellow one had on his copy of the Autobot Code. Definitely _too_ focused.

What was he looking for so intently? Was there a hidden message in the text?

He watched the yellow one read the Autobot Code from almost the moment he stepped out of Rung’s waiting room, until Ultra Magnus greeted them, as Bluestreak waved good bye promising to see them later.

But once they entered the room with Ultra Magnus, he watched and listened as they watched and listened, then even Red Alert lost focus as Ultra Magnus droned on.

Figuring the spies were trapped with Ultra Magnus for the remainder of the cycle, Red Alert had _finally_ begun to relax - as much as he ever relaxed - from being coiled tight for cycles. 

The price of operating his illegal mod to prolong the time periods between recharge meant now he was going to have to catch up on the recharge he missed, or simply crash. His processing time became more sluggish and with his constant state of agitation and tension, he had been burning through his reserves faster than it was designed for. It was not unusual for Jazz and his spec ops mechs to return from missions, visit the Medbay, deliver a quick report then not be seen for cycles.

The slowing of his systems over prolonged use had been a risk Red Alert was willing to accept for the price of security. Now with the two Decepticon spies locked up and trapped in Ultra Magnus’ cortex numbing, one-sided in depth discussion on the Autobot Code, Red Alert relaxed back in his chair and allowed the mechs on monitor duty to be his primary optics for the time being. 

Almost drifting off into a half aware recharge after a time, and attempting to idle away from his compulsion to randomly cycle through the cameras again, his spark leapt into his intake when he heard the negative entry for the door code behind him for his primary security control room.

Quickly cycling to the five cameras directly outside the room, he glared from five different angles at the red and yellow spies he’d been monitoring: Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.

How had they escaped Ultra Magnus’ lesson?

Accessing the recorded vid-files, Red Alert watched on a separate monitor as the recruits were marched down the hallway behind Ultra Magnus into Optimus’ office. 

A _blind spot_ until Sunstreaker came stomping out and punched at a wall before stalking away down the center of the hall, revving and snarling dangerously at any Autobot in his path.

Another negative attempt to enter his control room, and Red Alert glared at the monitors displaying the two degenerates. Sunstreaker batted Sideswipe’s probing digits from pressing the buttons on the entry pad. By the tenth attempt Sunstreaker had pinned Sideswipe’s servos by the wrist against the wall and glared at the pad as if he were considering the best way to deactivate it in battle. 

Waiting, Red Alert watched, half expecting them to finally pull out some sort of hacking device to cycle through codes.

By the twenty third attempt, and three further instances of batting away of Sideswipe’s digits, the door cycled open and Red Alert rounded on them with a glare as he reached out to set off the emergency base alarms. 

This was it. They were making their move. 

A high pitched squeal pierced through the room, causing Red Alert to lose his focus as he battled his systems wanting to force him into recharge. A dash of red, and Red Alert found Sideswipe’s face filling the visual feed of his HUD; servos on either side of Red Alert’s face, and squishing it tight.

The high pitched squealing and bubbling smile of Sideswipe gave way to words as Red Alert reset his systems and diverted their resources so he could focus, and access the emergency comms as he reached toward the button that would lock down Iacon.

As Sideswipe’s words actually processed in his cortex, his servo was yanked away from the button.

“TWINNIE! TWINNIE! TWINNIE!” 

Red Alert found himself pulled out of his chair and his helm pressed tight against Sideswipe’s as he was turned toward Sunstreaker’s deadly glare; optics shifting between Red Alert and Sideswipe’s uncomfortably smooshed together cheekplates.

“Sunny look! I have a _twin_!”

Sunstreaker froze for a moment, clenched and unclenched his servos, before he stomped over and leaned in far too close for comfort. 

With his spark pulsing wildly, Red Alert continued to experience the oddest assassination attempt of his life.

“There are definite differences.” Sunstreaker stated as he narrowed his optics.

“ _Pffft_ don’t focus on the _differences_ Sunny, focus on the _similarities_. From the wheel placement to our audial horns!” Audial helm horns knocked together as if sword fighting with little clacks and sending static into his audial feed, then Red Alert found his helm released. An arm wrapped around him and his tire was rudely spun on his shoulder on one side, while a tire bumped identically against the other.

“Where’d you get your rocket twinnie? I want one so we can match. What’s your name? You know what, don’t bother, you’re twinnie now and -“

Sideswipe’s optics grew huge as he turned toward the wall of monitors and dashed forward to start cycling through the camera feeds. “You even have a _button room_? Twinnie, you are the _best_ discovery I’ve made here. To think we’ve been avoiding Iacon and this _treasure_.”

A distraction. That’s what this was, Sideswipe was cycling rapidly through his feeds as if he had a deliberate purpose, an objective, while Sunstreaker stood rigidly with his arms over his chestplate glaring up and down Red Alert’s frame.

And finally, Red Alert could operate his systems coherently enough through his desperate need for recharge, to sound the alarm as he shoved his way between Sideswipe and his precious monitoring system.

But when he reported their presence and their devious plot to Optimus, he just sighed at him, and told him to tell them to leave without making too many accusations.

Shrieking death threats at them, Red Alert told them _exactly_ what he thought of them, and Sideswipe had the nerve to laugh and continue to call Red Alert his long lost twin as he chased them from his room by powering up his shoulder mounted missile. Prowl was no help as he went walking by, and once they were in the hall, Red Alert slammed his fist over the locking mechanism and worked rapidly to change the code. 

Returning to his monitors he glared at their interaction with Prowl and watched them return to the barracks and into another infuriating blind spot.

Once they were in the barracks for over a joor, Red Alert unlocked his door and went to stare at his entry pad. 

Sunstreaker used no device to hack the door code, Red Alert had _watched_ him and he knew he changed it every cycle. 

Narrowing his optics at it, he glared. 

It had taken Sunstreaker and Sideswipe twenty three attempts to gain entry. 

Had it simply been luck, a coincidence?

Impossible.

Red Alert didn’t believe in luck, or coincidence.

Conspiracy. 

This simply itched at his cortex as a _conspiracy_ and these mechs were not as they presented themselves to be.

He’d continue watching them, and eventually they’d slip up enough that he’d have solid evidence to bring to Optimus. 

The Autobots were courting danger into their ranks. 

Returning to his monitors, he brought up paused recordings of Sideswipe, and Red Alert studied the mech from multiple angles on different monitors. Sideswipe was _right_ , the similarities between them were astonishing, what if -

No. This was exactly what Rung warned him about if he continued to use his mod to attempt to kill the itch in his cortex, remaining online until he crashed, in order to observe the secret plots he swore surrounded him at every corner. 

Red Alert resolutely did _not_ have a long lost twin. Split-spark twins were so glaringly obvious within the first moment of interacting with them, they synced common movements like how they walked and agreed with each other for everything, often smiling or laughing between themselves and with others.

Yet as he rewatched the feed of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe’s hacking of his door code, Red Alert was struck with another similarity between himself and them. 

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe’s method of hacking Red Alert’s door code, appeared to be _random, yet precise_. 

Chuckling at himself Red Alert shook his helm and resolved to get some recharge.

It was impossible for a mech to not know they were one half of another’s spark.

Long lost twins. Bah.

The whole concept was ridiculous.


	2. The Reverse Pirate Code

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read **Chapter 21: Pirates of Tarn** first. 
> 
> This works as a prequel teaser for **Chapter 22: Tattered Remnants** and Sunstreaker's upcoming POV with Mirage.
> 
> And brace for some abrupt feels for how Sideswipe chose his crew, I needed tissues when I wrote this.

“Sunny!”

Sunstreaker stepped forward from where he had just positioned himself at the end of the line as Prowl had instructed, and moved forward to stand behind Sideswipe.

As he passed, he tried to get a covert glimpse at the screen of the datapad Sideswipe was pretending to read. Sideswipe was scrolling around on it randomly as he pretended to read it, and shifting between profiles too fast for Sunstreaker to catch more than a few glyphs. 

What was an electro-disruptor? 

He ached to ask, or better yet, just snatch that datapad out of Sideswipe’s servo and see if it was defined. 

When Prowl had handed Sideswipe the datapad after making Sideswipe a team captain, Sunstreaker had pulsed support over their bond at Sideswipe’s brief moment of uncertain dread.

Then Sideswipe had confidently declared: //A captain works with what he’s given,// and called out his nickname for Sunstreaker.

“Bluestreak!” Sideswipe jerked his helm from the grey mech toward Sunstreaker’s direction, holding the datapad down at his side and now frustratingly out of Sunstreaker’s view. “Of course I need your lucky door wingies at my side.”

Bluestreak's mouth moved in what Sunstreaker had categorized as one of Bluestreak's friendly smiles as he moved forward from the line and stood beside Sunstreaker.

“Looks like we are on the same team!” Bluestreak whispered toward him.

Pulling his plating tighter, Sunstreaker focused on not sending a ping for assistance to Sideswipe and distracting him from developing a strategy to cover that he couldn’t read that datapad. 

Why did mechs always insist on stating the obvious in conversation?

How was he suppose to respond to that? What follow up questions might he have to entertain? 

Sunstreaker’s spark rate increased while his processor raced with possible communication permutations under Bluestreak’s expectant stare. 

What if he said the wrong statement, isolated Bluestreak, and the mech was no longer friendly toward him?

He settled on a response he used in the past with measured success when mechs stated the obvious in conversation.

“Obviously.” He agreed with a calculated neutral cant to his tone.

Rigid and tense under his plating, Sunstreaker hastily looked away from Bluestreak’s dizzying movements of his sensor panels and expressive faceplate to focus on the line in front of him; hoping Bluestreak wouldn’t offer a follow up statement.

When none came, Sunstreaker assumed he had been successful at social communication, and focused back on the task in front of him.

Scanning the line of mechs as Sideswipe walked in front of that same line pretending to read again, Sunstreaker offered a suggestion while itching to get his servos on that datapad.

//You should chose the red minibot.//

//Nope.//

//That minibot’s plating is thick, it can take a hit. The one next to it too.//

//Still nope.//

//Orange and green minibot’s spinal strut is completely shielded from behind.// 

//Doesn’t matter minis freak you out.//

“Hound.” Sideswipe said aloud, despite Sunstreaker’s logical suggestions for strategy. His idiot was obviously just choosing mechs he knew. 

They’d driven with Hound to the Autobot base.

Continuing to scan the line of mechs before him, Sunstreaker gave the minibots one final consideration. 

He wanted to push it further: point out the logical reason Shockwave had used minibot frames for drones to retrieve the experiment subjects from their pens, and for cleaning the lab.

Minibot frames were solid; tough. They could wedge into places Sunstreaker in his larger adult frame could never manage, ambush with a sedative, take a solid hit, get up and keep going. Their low center of gravity made their stance incredibly stable and these ones had solid armor plating modifications.

They were strategically multipurpose and useful.

Instead of arguing the point, knowing from experience that would only make Sideswipe ping sharply at him, Sunstreaker simply huffed and scowled silently along their bond as he crossed his arms in front of himself.

Pointless to deny it, minibots made Sunstreaker’s spark twist in lingering guilt and discomfort when their faceplates morphed in countless emotional expressions, and Sideswipe could feel it.

They looked like they were the glitching drones he’d been instructed to isolate and report for reformatting, and later reformat by himself once Creator instructed him how in his lessons.

“Smokescreen.” Sideswipe pointed at his next selection. 

Smokescreen had a berth next to theirs in the barracks. Sideswipe had stayed up late playing some game with him two night cycles ago as Sunstreaker sat on his berth staring at a blank screen trying to reason out what qualified as an _appropriate_ drawing for his assignment from the Autobot Rung.

Visually examining Sideswipe’s choice of Smokescreen, Sunstreaker pinged him in irritation.

//Are you seriously building a strategy based on collecting "lucky" Praxian sensor panels?//

//No.//

//Liar.//

//It’s not a _complete_ lie. I was thinking the other night cycle…you can use Smokescreen as a baseline for Bluestreak’s door wingie language.//

//I can’t concentrate on that project during a battle situation.// Sunstreaker snapped out.

//During our _show_.// Sideswipe corrected. //It’ll be just like the Pits. We’ll make them love us after they see what we can do, just like the crowds. Non-lethal of course. Remember? We are taking prisoners.//

Sunstreaker didn’t bother to respond as a pit of dread welled in his spark; the crowds always loved Sideswipe.

 _Of course_ everyone always loved Sideswipe.

Sideswipe was special...and Sunstreaker would inevitably make the fields and the mechs he couldn't feel around him recoil away from him.

A short illogical sequence of pings saturated in affection and confidence emanated from Sideswipe, in response to Sunstreaker’s nervous anxiety as he predicted his failure, indicating Sideswipe had a specific strategy in mind. He challenged Sunstreaker with a melody to concentrate on; a pattern to complete. 

Sunstreaker narrowed his optics at the remaining options, since the minibots had been discounted and all the mechs they had met had been selected, he focused on finding the conclusion to Sideswipe’s statistically illogical strategy that would result in injury.

//The big one.// Sunstreaker predicted, //His frame’s sturdy and it would probably need both of us to take him down non-lethally.//

//Nope.// Sideswipe marched right past him without slowing in the least to consider the mech, but he pinged a deluge of love balls for Sunstreaker's attempt.

Sunstreaker’s frame’s systems went silent as he stilled the randomized revving of his engine in order to concentrate. 

//What do you mean _nope_?// Examining the large mech again, Sunstreaker attempted to find a weakness he'd overlooked, but this mech would only be an advantage to any strategy Sideswipe could possibly conceive in his illogical cortex.

//Listen, Prowl made me Captain, I choose the crew.//

//…I don’t think that’s what he meant.// Sunstreaker grumbled uncertainly along their bond.

//I’m a Captain, we have to capture a flag, _and_ he wanted a show. Obviously we are being pirates.// Sideswipe hinted.

Begrudgingly Sunstreaker pinged his agreement to Sideswipe.

Sideswipe’s logic of implied piracy was sound, but it still didn’t make any sense why Sideswipe didn’t want the mech towering over everyone else, on his crew.

Staring intently at the mech, Sunstreaker attempted to figure out what Sideswipe had seen that Sunstreaker couldn’t.

Then it clicked, and Sunstreaker teased Sideswipe along their bond with his answer. 

//You are afraid the big one will out shine us.//

//Psh. As if.//

//You are.//

//Nope.//

//Liar.//

//…Maybe.// Sideswipe huffed along their bond, while pinging the affirmative. //Look at him though. The mech oozes power, I can’t afford a mutiny.//

Watching Sideswipe close to determine the strategy, and distract himself from attempting to predict the numerous ways Sunstreaker could mess this up for them, his idiot chose a mech they didn’t know.

“I like your style mech. Red and yellow look good together.” Sideswipe winked at a mech with a frame type similar to Soundwave, “Get your aft in my line.”

A mech they didn’t know…with no visor obscuring optics or mouth-plate cover blocking a mouth.

Sideswipe's strategy…

Sideswipe was -

 _Taking prisoners_.

The words of Sideswipe along with his promise before they launched off the side of a building, and improbably succeeded at steering seekers to make an indispensable impression to the Autobots, echoed in Sunstreaker’s cortex on loop.

Sunstreaker had studied those words extensively, and reviewed the details compulsively so he did not make an error.

Their backstory.

Their _official_ backstory.

 _"Don't worry so much Sunny. I promise, they won't see anything other than two ex-Gladiators, ex-Decepticons, soon to be ex-Neutrals. Both skilled, but nothing to be scared of, just a silly red jokester and his aloof, vain sometimes cuddle-friend - all perfectly normal."_

Their official backstory that Sunstreaker had unknowingly already ruined vorns ago in Polyhex, and almost got them turned away at the front gate to the Autobot base when he was recognized. 

His reputation among the Autobots - that conflicted with Sideswipe’s intended story of their lives. 

Sunstreaker clung tight to the bond that had formed between their sparks as the pattern to Sideswipe’s strategy clicked into place.

Sideswipe’s objective today was trying to soften Sunstreaker's reputation among the Autobots, and he was choosing the mechs Sunstreaker had the highest chance of success of understanding so he wouldn’t get frustrated during this _show_ of their skill.

Walking directly past the polished blue and white mech standing with impeccable posture, Sunstreaker knew immediately why that mech was discounted and snapped his attention to the final candidate. 

The blue mech with the extensive ventilation system.

Stopping in front of the blue mech, a hard grating scratch spiked from Sideswipe along their bond.

Pretending to read the datapad and making noises of consideration, Sideswipe attempted to hide it.

He had made no visual reaction that anything was amiss. But Sunstreaker had _felt it._

//What’s wrong with the blue one?// Sunstreaker studied the frame of the blue mech with all the extra fans and what appeared to be dexterous plating from helm to pede. The extensive fan network of his frame, the lighter weight plating would mean swift deactivation in the Pits but… this mech's frame could obviously handle high speeds.

//Nothing. But…//

//But what?//

Sideswipe didn’t respond. Just continued to pretend to read the datapad.

//You spiked hard for an astroklick then looked at the black mech. You _replayed_. What’s wrong?// Sunstreaker probed.

//It doesn’t matter.//

It did though.

For a few klicks, Sunstreaker thought Sideswipe wouldn’t respond and Sunstreaker considered the black mech next to the blue one capable of strategic speeds.

Oh.

Sideswipe sent a wave of reassurance and promise of support to him as soon as he felt Sunstreaker’s realization, chasing after his withdrawal along the bond to pull him back. 

//...What does the black one's field feel like?// Sunstreaker pulsed tentatively.

The emotions from Sideswipe were raw in Sunstreaker’s spark and he ached to go to him, merge with him and protect him. 

//…Like he wants to pass me his wires and ask to be sent on an adventure.//

Sunstreaker’s spark clenched tight, and he couldn’t stop himself from reflexively jerking away from their bond, hating anytime Sideswipe brought up his past in the pens, fearing Sideswipe might remember Subject 253a's words.

//It’s fine Sunny. I’ll chose -//

//Take him along with the others in your subspace.//

//He has a visor though!// Sideswipe protested.

//What about your reverse pirate code?// Sunstreaker pinged his encouragement, as he syphoned off his own pain along the tattered remnants of his original purpose. //On Captain Sideswipe’s crew, no mech gets left behind remember?//

Sideswipe clung tight to their bond as he pulsed in gratitude, and Sunstreaker clung even tighter back as Sideswipe grinned and draped his arm around the black mech with a visor. 

“It’s your lucky cycle mech,” Sideswipe stated as he guided the mech into the center of the line with his crew, “I’ve saved the perfect spot just for you, front and center.”

Tossing the datapad over his shoulder without looking back, Sunstreaker caught it without thought, aching for a new distraction to calm his fears. Onlining it in a fluid motion of familiarty, he searched for the new glyph he had caught on the screen, and had been itching to have defined.

Finally.

//See what we’re up against, Captain Sideswipe needs his first mate Sunny on this adventure. Together, we're unstoppable.//

Sunstreaker uncoiled from when he had gone still along their bond, pulsed back in tentative adoration for his special spark, and relief.

Finding the new term, Sunstreaker's fuel pump slammed to a halt and his optics snapped up to meet those of the polished blue and white mech standing with their opponents.

 _That’s_ what an electro-disruptor did?

Frag.

Sideswipe would have _loved_ that mech on his crew.

Narrowing his optics at the polished blue mech, standing almost identically with the impeccable posture and impassive faceplate Sunstreaker himself had been instructed to use by his Creator, Sunstreaker had already concluded that mech would not have been an option for Sideswipe's crew based on that alone. 

Now however, Sunstreaker set about mentally removing plating. Envisioning his predicted locations of Mirage's primary internal components, Sunstreaker attempted to determine where an electro-disruptor was optimally installed. 

And what it looked like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it. The mental gymnastics I went through of how this characterization of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker would chose their crew without being able to read the datapad, and the implied origin of Captain Sideswipe's reverse pirate code. 
> 
> Sideswipe recognized a brief flash of Trailbreaker's depression and potentially lingering suicidal thoughts in his field. Sideswipe only recognizes that feeling, doesn't know what it is, but it abruptly gave him an emotional flashbacks (or _replay_ as Sunstreaker called it) to his "neighbours" and how their fields would feel when some of them passed him their wires for him to take on his adventures.


	3. Collecting Booty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during **Chapter 21: Pirates of Tarn** and gives you a separate view point I cut because it interrupted the flow of that chapter.

Freezing where he stood, a vibroblade against his back plating, there was no point in turning his head, casting out proximity scanners, or his EM field.

Currently invisible, only few mechs were capable of finding Mirage so effortlessly. 

The blade, expertly placed at an angle to enter an over lap of plating for ventillations, would enter straight into a nerve cluster of motor functions. One slice, and the practice blade would simulate the critical injury and he’d be unable to move. 

Mirage cycled a ventilated sigh in defeat, “I knew this would happen once we became opponents.”

The deep chuckle behind him sent his spark racing, “You can never hide from me. I’ll always find you.”

“Don’t your dampeners ever squeak?”

“Master hunter’s only as good as his gear, tracking prey is only part of the skill, you still have to be able to creep up on it…and catch it.” Hot ventilation whispered across Mirage’s audial, taking a deep ventillation from vorns of instruction, Mirage suppressed his engine’s response. “Servos behind your back please.”

Mirage complied and a binding cord wound around his wrists. Skilled in unarmed combat, Mirage was still at a disadvantage with this particular opponent. He had lost with the placement of that vibroblade. 

Cursed master class hunter knew how to track him and make a quick silent kill.

The knot was bound tight, and Mirage was nudged forward.

“Why aren’t you taking me out of the sim?” It didn’t make any sense.

"Captain Sideswipe ordered us to take prisoners.” A hot frame pressed against Mirage’s, and Hound’s engine rumbled in timber with his voice sending vibrations shooting through Mirage’s frame and making his knee joints feel weak. “I called dibs on the pretty blue jewel. Just collecting my booty.”

And he had to go and ruin it.

“I can not believe you just -” With a short startled undignified _eep_ Mirage would venomously deny, he was hoisted over Hound’s shoulder, aft up in the air as Hound grabbed Mirage’s team’s flag and started running down the stairs back to his forces. “Unhand me you ruffian! We are in the middle of a simulation. Others will see.”

His protests were ignored as Hound cackled about collecting his booty.

Mirage’s legs flailed and kicked in the air, and only vorns of training that such behavior was _undignified,_ kept the grin from his face for others to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, but I really do need to remember to post these here instead of on Tumblr for all the non-tumblr readers who might be interested with some behind the scenes that get cut.


	4. Endorsement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behind the scenes of what leads up to some of what Jazz refers to in **Chapter 26: The Maze of Fact or Fiction**
> 
> This one is much more of a silly crack!fic involving my roomba named Xerxes Maximus of whom I gave a strong name in hopes that he will rise the ranks during the inevitable robot uprising. It was suggested to me, on multiple occasions, that it seemed like if he and Sideswipe met in Hypothesis they would get along very well.

“pst”

Xerxes continued on his way cleaning the hall.

“Hey you. Pst.”

Xerxes paused.

Spinning on his wheels, his little rotating brush froze in its tracks at the size of the mech on his servos and knees peering at him. The red and black mech had a missile mounted on his shoulder that would most certainly leave no remains that could be vacuumed up. Quivering slightly in his circuits Xerxes played at being a cleaning drone like all the rest. He prided himself on never standing out or getting sent to Wheeljack for a scan since the aftermath of the explosion and flames in which he had emerged. 

“You look like a little guy that’s in the know.”

Xerxes wasn’t certain how to respond to this new input so he stay still.

“I uh, I’ve got a bit of a bubble situation in the room behind me.”

Locking his sensors onto the room, Xerxes detected foam cleanser bubbling out the cracks.

“You see…” The mech rubbed at the back of his neck, “I think I might have used too much cleanser when Prowl assigned me to clean up the washracks, and uh, I’m looking for buckets or something to put the bubbles in?”

{{What idiot puts bubbles in buckets to clean up?}} Cackling out a tone pattern no mech ever understood, Xerxes mocked the mech.

“So you can talk.” If Xerxes had a spark, it would have stopped. “I knew you were the one I needed to talk to. You look like you are the commander of swabbing the deck around here am I right?”

Rising slightly up on his wheels, Xerxes resisted fleeing at this new development and carefully strummed out another tone pattern.

{{You…understand me?}}

The mech smiled wide, “I’ve broken through quieter and stiller shells than yours with my little pings, and it turns out I’m in the market for a commander of deck swabbing on my crew. So uh, here’s your job application, impress me. Bubbles from cleanser that clearly I read the instructions to…don’t go in buckets. Every idiot knows that. You passed my first test so then I ask you this…what’s your solution for excess bubbles that won’t stop in the washracks.”

If Xerxes had a mouth to smile with, it would have stretched across his nonexistent face.

{{I am assigned to clean this hallway.}}

The red mech’s face formed the smile Xerxes would chose to match if he could then he shuttered an optic at Xerxes in a wink. “I like how you think commander, welcome aboard.”

Xerxes couldn’t help but wiggle on his wheels as his first minion, who introduced himself as his Captain Sideswipe, directed the Autobots on the base to do Xerxes work for him.

Cleanser was spread down the hallway in all directions and Xerxes basked in their cheers from his alcove in the vents. 

When the washracks were empty later that cycle, Xerxes wheeled out of the cleaning ducts to preen next to the mirror, and admire the new optic patch painted on his red face thingie that marked him as part of Captain Sideswipe’s revolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xerxes the sinister cleaning drone with dreams of grandeur thanks you for his endorsement onto Captain Sideswipe’s crew.
> 
> Xerxes is not in the main storyline, but as you can see, this was actually extremely similar to the why when Sideswipe flooded the halls with bubbles. Sunstreaker was recharging, and he couldn't read the cleanser labels.


	5. Transcending Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Brace for Bitty Sideswipe in the lab and Carrier feels.* 
> 
> This is more of a character introspective piece, linked to the single line in **Chapter 29: The Winds of War.**

_“I was raised in the light for the servo of Primus to guide my steps- an enlightened beacon of hope. I know the signs.”_

_//You and your fragging biolights.//_

_//Shhhhhhh.//_

_It was mostly true after all. Sideswipe _had_ been raised under always bright lights. He had been skeptical though, about the truth of Carrier’s story about Primus, the First Light. How could there be a first light when the lights just simply were? _

\-----------------------

A warm, comforting field danced and pulsed with his own, and Bitlet nuzzled tighter against the warm heat of Carrier’s windshield. Small, tiny digits clung in the seams of Carrier’s plating.

Bitlet’s nasal ridge wrinkled.

Twisting to the side, he tried to scramble over Carrier’s frame to see if he could fit better there instead.

The arms around him gripped tighter. 

“You have to offline your optics in order to recharge my little Bitlet.” Pulled closer, Carrier rubbed the tip of his nose against Bitlet’s. 

With a huff, Bitlet offlined his optics. 

His ped twitched. 

Burrowing his face against Carrier's warm plating, he couldn't help his wiggling. He tried to nuzzled closer, but there was no closer to be had. 

“I can’t get close enough.” Bitlet whined and clung tighter. 

A sharp pain lanced through Carrier’s field, and Bitlet couldn't hold back his whimper. 

“Shhhh.” Carrier’s chin rested on Bitlet’s helm, finding a place to tuck him in tighter, “Offline your optics, and I’ll whisper a secret story into you audial.”

Held as tight as could be in Carrier's arms, Bitlet nodded and offlined his optics.

Soothing pulse patterns were shot through Bitlet’s quivering field, until their mingled fields pulsed as one. 

“Before the dawn of time,” Carrier’s comforting voice began, “chaos and order existed in perfect harmony as The One: a powerful, living core of the universe that transcends dimensions -“

“What does transcendsising dimensions do?” Bitlet whispered back.

“Transcending dimension," Carrier corrected softly. "It means no walls can stop it. Where The One exists, there are no fueling cycles to count. Time doesn't matter, and one who can transcend dimensions can be everywhere and no where all at once.”

With his optics offline, Bitlet tried to picture what a life without walls or fueling cycles would feel like. Such a thing couldn’t possible exist. A warm tingle shot through his spark, starting from his field and wrapped around him nice and snug. He followed the source with Carrier's field. His new shuttle neighbour from the room beside them extended his field to join with the soothing pulses - 

And Bitlet understood. 

Life without walls meant Bitlet could see everybody and touch everything.

“I like that.” Bitlet’s plating stilled. 

“I do too.” A cheek brushed against his helm. The arms around him shifted, and with a soft sway Bitlet’s frame began to slowly rock.

“What happened next?” He whispered.

“From The One, Primus The First Light was born, and Cybertron glowed from within for the first time.”

Bitlet couldn’t resist turning his head and onlining his optics. He stared up at the four lights in ceiling of their home. 

“Which light was first?” Bitlet asked.

Pain lanced through Carrier’s field again, causing their fields to separate briefly. Quickly, Bitlet offlined his optics and snuggled back close.

“Not those lights.” The soothing pulses were back. A comforting servo rested against his head, and held it still. “The center of Cybertron glowed from within, and stars filled the dark emptiness of space.”

“Stars?” Bitlet’s voice was muffled against Carrier’s windshield. He pressed his cheek against it to feel the warm rotations of Carrier’s spark. 

“Millions and millions of little flickering lights that sparkle and shine in the sky,” Carrier’s voice became distant, seeing the things Bitlet couldn’t see again. “So many lights you can never count them. If you fly high enough they surround you, and Cybertron twinkles beneath you. Wind curls around your plating. The higher you fly, the thinner air becomes. Fly straight up to those stars, and your engine stalls. In that moment you transform; spread your arms and legs, and you fall. All the lights spin around you, and time ceases to be. It's just you and the wind rushing over your plating...”

As Carrier became lost in stories of the sky that couldn’t possibly exist, his field rocked Bitlet's like a gentle breeze. Bitlet’s spark finally calmed, and he slipped into recharge with the soft vented air of Carrier’s words drifting over his audials. 

When he onlined again Carrier was in recharge. His first thought was of a place with no walls or fueling cycles, and Bitlet carefully twisted in Carrier's arms to look up at the four lights again. 

He counted them, and tried to imagine being unable to count them. His leg started to jiggle. Wiggling carefully out of Carrier’s arms, Bitlet thumped onto the floor. Looking back to make sure Carrier was still in recharge, he crept close to his glowing bar door. The electric heat from the bars on either side of his face crackled against his plating, but Bitlet knew exactly how close he could get. 

Turning his head from side to side, he peered out into the hallway between all his neighbor’s homes -

And counted the lights. 

He recounted them from between every bar, then laid down on the floor on his back. Examining each and every light in turn, Bitlet wrinkled his nasal ridge and huffed. 

How could there be a first light when the lights simply always were?

They all looked the same, and he could definitely count them. 

Still, he spread his arms and legs out and tried to imagine falling through the air with the lights spinning around him. 

Carrier made Cybertron sound like the best place that could ever be. 

Too bad it couldn’t possibly exist.

~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

Sideswipe led Sunstreaker through the dark and dingy streets of Kaon.

He didn’t know where they were going, but anywhere was better than being near slag sucking Shockwave. Working together, they snuck through the defensive perimeter, and took off to restart their life together. 

Again. 

They drove in a random direction until they could no longer see the muted haze of Kaon behind them. 

On the seventeenth cycle, when sun set on the horizon, Sideswipe screeched to a halt, transformed, and flopped backward on the ground. Sunstreaker was there instantly, in Sideswipe's spark and hovering over his HUD, pulsing his worry and asking what was wrong.

Sideswipe couldn't find the words. Arms and legs spread out in all directions on the ground he simply pointed up, and recalibrated his optical sensors.

There they were. Millions and millions of them. Little lights filling the sky; so many he couldn’t count them. 

//Stars, Sunny.// He pulsed in unrestrained awe. 

Everything Carrier said was true. Cybertron _was_ the best place that could ever be.

In that moment, Sideswipe just _knew_ there were no limits. He and Sunny could go on adventures. There were no walls, no rules, and no time to stop them now. They could see and touch everything. They could become The One and transcend dimensions. 

He swore to Sunny then that one cycle, the two of them would feel the wind whipping over their plating, and fly so high that their engines would stall.

Together, they would fall. 

Together, the would become unstoppable. 

No reality could ever block them. 

Sideswipe wouldn’t let it. 

Because in Sideswipe's experience, stories could come true. He knew hero stories always had happy endings - 

And Sideswipe and his Sunny desperately needed a happy ending together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sniffs*


End file.
